


The Best Day Of My Life

by GaryTheFish



Series: Hope is a Four Letter Word [48]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Loki - Canon Divergence, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8509300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaryTheFish/pseuds/GaryTheFish
Summary: My ancestors planted some sequoias by a roadI've driven down that road since I was bornOh, never have you ever seen so many perfect evergreensBut I would chop them all down just for you

  I have walked a million miles in a hundred pairs of shoesIn search of some universal truthWell a deity just came to me and handed me a scroll to readAnd I will gladly pass it on to you

  I have crossed a natural plane and communed with the deadBut people always seem to want some proofNo one even would believe, my love, that evil I got pictures ofBut I would throw them all out just for you

  Anything for you





	1. Chapter 1

Several days had passed since Frigga’s visit, and with the holidays over, Loki and Aeslin had settled back into an easy routine. They were both busy; negotiations with Tony’s latest potential partnership were set for the next week, as was the start of the semester. Loki’s voice was thoughtful as he carefully dried a plate, then stacked it in the cupboard.

“Do we have plans this weekend?” he asked as he pulled a bowl from the dish drainer and continued his work.

She considered for a moment as she rinsed silverware. “No official ones,” she answered, dropping the forks and spoons by pairs into the wire basket. “I need to finish setting up my office, but that shouldn’t take very long. I also wanted to run by the bookstore and make sure they’ve got enough of everything on my syllabus. Not much I can do at this point if they don’t, but I’ll just feel better if I know if they’re out of something. It makes any last-minute adjustments easier.” Drying her hands on a towel, she turned and leaned against the counter. “Something you have in mind?”

“I thought we might go exploring. We keep saying we’re going to, but then we get distracted by Charing Cross, or the Museum, or something else. The weather’s supposed to be almost dry this weekend, so why not? A sort of last-minute adventure before academia does its best to swallow you whole again.”

A gentle laugh as she hung the towel on a hook above the sink. “It won’t be as bad this semester. It’s just the one class and the prep workshop, which I’m only in charge of every other week.”

“The prep workshop for the field school you’re neck-deep in planning,” he clarified, and she smirked, well aware she’d been caught.

“And thank heavens Doctor Stewart is sticking around for one more season,” she admitted. “It will make the transition easier, even if he just brings a big floppy hat and sits in a lawn chair drinking tea for six weeks straight. After sixty years of raising hell in the archaeological world, he’s certainly earned the right.”

Loki upended the dish drainer in the sink, leaving it to dry and hanging his towel next to hers. “Earned it, yes, but I don’t see him _ex_ ercising that right. He’ll be down there in the trenches with the rest of us, aching joints be damned. I know the type.”

“You _are_ the type,” she observed as she walked with him out of the kitchen and toward the couch, “which explains why the two of you get along so well.”

He merely grinned as he found a good spot on the cushions, propping his legs on the ottoman and beckoning to her. She settled onto his lap, knees against his hips, and he laced his hands loosely behind her back. Her fingers went automatically to his hair, running lightly along his temples.

“We’ll probably have to pry him out of the test pits at the end of every day,” she observed thoughtfully, her hands working their way toward his neck and massaging as they went. “It could involve some heavy lifting, especially if he’s found something exciting and we have to use the crowbar. Maybe I’ll make that part of your job description.”

“Professorial extraction,” he mused. “It does sound impressive. I wonder if I should add that to my resume; I’ve certainly done it to you often enough.”

“True, but you’ll have to change your technique. Bursting into my office five minutes after student hours are over in a three-piece suit and announcing in your finest Son of Kick Your Ass-Gard voice that Doctor Kindle has _very impressive dinner reservations so kindly go away this instant_ isn’t going to have the same effect in the field.”

He snorted. “Probably not, but _gods_ , that was fun to do. I can’t believe Brooks allowed it.”

“Me neither. Seems you got to him, too.”

“All part of the conquest, love. All part of the conquest. I’m frankly more surprised _you_ allowed it, even if it was after the fact. Besides, the place needed a little shaking up, and I haven’t heard a grown man scream like that in _months_. Not since the last paintball tournament.”

She tweaked a curl at the back of his neck in a sharp, smooth motion. “Which was also your fault, as I recall.”

“God of mischief,” he reminded her, slipping one thumb idly beneath the hem of her shirt and running it across the dip of her spine. “I should at _least_ get to keep my hand in the game.”

“You’ve certainly still got the royal glare down; I’ll give you that, but come on. We didn’t even _have_ reservations. You took me to get fish and chips.”

He held up a finger sternly. “It was damn good fish and chips, and you’d already skipped lunch and probably breakfast. Desperate times, desperate measures, you know.”

“You had no idea I’d missed anything until long after you came storming through the door.”

He tapped her nose, ever so gently. “Didn’t have to know, little one. Just had to make one well-educated guess. I stand by my actions, and believe me when I say I’d do much _more_ than that if the situation required it. That promise remains in force.”

A slight shake of her head, and then she leaned forward to kiss the tip of his finger. “You’re so good to me.”

He shrugged fractionally as he replaced his hand on her hip. “You make it easy.” Her eyebrow went up, and he gave her a faint smirk in reply. “Most of the time.”

Her fingers resumed teasing along the back of his neck, trailing over curls and scar-whitened skin in turn. “So, this adventure of yours. Did you have anywhere specific in mind?”

“St. Albans,” he replied, hoping he hadn’t answered too rapidly. At her thoughtful look, his brow knit. “Have you been before?”

“Sounds very familiar, but I don’t think so.” Her fingers stroked absently along his neck and came to rest on his chest. “It doesn’t matter if I have, though. I like watching you discover things. Seeing them for the first time. It’s like a thousand years fall away at once, and you just get this _look_ on your face. I can’t even describe it. It doesn’t happen often, but… I don’t know. I love it.” Her gaze dropped, and one finger circled a button on his shirt. “I think it’s because not many people know that side of you, so every time I see it, I just feel like you’ve given me this beautiful wonderful gift that nobody else will ever get. It’s... sweet.” Wincing, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m sorry. That was a lot.” She glanced up through her lashes. “And stop looking at me like that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, gently lifting her chin, “and look at you like what?”

“Like you can’t decide whether to be embarrassed at your own humanity or give me everything I’ve ever wanted including my very own giraffe or tackle me to the floor and have your way with me.”

“You mean I have to pick just one?” he asked with a bit of a wicked smile, dropping his hand back to her hip and tugging her a little closer. He leaned forward, teeth grazing along her earlobe. “And just so we’re clear, love, it wouldn’t be _my_ way we were having. At least not for quite some time.”

She pulled away slightly, allowing his lips to brush the edge of her jaw before flattening her hands against his chest to keep a bit of distance between them.

“Later,” she promised, smiling at the clearly exaggerated pout that came to his face. “Tell me about St. Albans.”

“Far enough away that we won’t feel like we’re still in London, but close enough to be home in time for supper, if that’s what we want. Just a couple of short train rides; we won’t even have to worry about a car. Lots of sights within walking distance of St Albans’ station. We’ll soak up the sun - at least all we we can in the middle of an English January - stretch our legs, and do some exploring while we’re at it.”

He could tell he’d piqued her curiosity by the tilt to her lips.

“You’ve got my attention,” she said, linking her hands behind him again; her thumb rubbed a gentle circle at the apex of his neck. “Tell me more. What might we find on these explorations?”

The pout disappeared, replaced by an animated grin as he began the list he’d been mentally amassing for days. “Goodness, where do I begin? The medieval clock tower? Still has its original bell. What about the cathedral? Oldest one continually in use, so I’ve heard. Built by the Normans. Not to mention the remnants of a Roman wall _or_ the ruins of an Elizabethan manor, both of which just _happen_ to be open to public exploration. And let’s not forget the restaurant devoted almost entirely to waffles.”

She leaned back in his arms, one delicate brow raised. “Listen to _you_ with all those magic words. I’m impressed.”

“Fast learner,” he reminded her with a wink, “especially with the right motivation.” Loki ran his fingers along her spine, face curious. “So what do you think? Can I lure you away for a day?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, leaning in for a kiss at last. “I can’t wait.”

***

There was barely need for an alarm on Saturday morning; they both woke within minutes of each other in the soft twilight before true dawn and before the music ever started. Loki’s eyes opened first, and he studied her for the few brief moments he had before her own eyes fluttered open. She blinked a few times, and a sleepy grin lit her face as he came into focus.

“Hey, you.”

“Morning, beautiful,” he responded, and she shifted forward long enough for a brief kiss. “Excited for today’s adventure?”

“Mmhmm.” She stretched lazily, and his eyes were drawn immediately to the briefly-exposed strip of skin below the hem of her tank top as she reached over and turned off her phone alarm. Loki waited until she had gone limp once more, then looped an arm possessively around her waist and pulled himself closer. She put her hand over his, preventing it from moving any further beneath her shirt, and he made an unhappy noise against her shoulder.

“I thought you wanted to be out of here by seven-thirty,” she reminded him gently.

A sigh as he nipped at her earlobe and twined his legs around hers. “That was before I woke up next to the most intoxicating creature this side of… well, anywhere.”

“Which you do almost every morning,” she said, unsuccessfully trying to wriggle free. “Which also, come to think of it, might be why we’ve been having this discussion at least twice a week since we got back from Malibu.”

“The holidays spoiled me,” he managed between nibbles. “I can’t be blamed.”

“Can and _will_ ,” she replied, voice rising as he found the sensitive spot he’d been looking for. She batted uselessly at him. “ _Shoo_. We’ve got ruins waiting. Would you like to go first or second? Or I could use the guest bathroom to speed things up.”

“Or I could give you a two minute head start and then come in after you.”

A faint sigh escaped her as his lips flickered along her collarbones. “You’re insatiable.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he admitted, “though in my defense, I’m also coming off a dry spell that probably lasted longer than _you’ve_ been alive.”

“Poor thing.” She managed to untangle one slender arm. “Here, let me out so I can find my tiny violin and play you a very _very_ sad song, since your most _recent_ dry spell started all of nine hours ago. Holy hell, loverboy. I thought _I_ was bad.”

“You know,” he replied as he slid his hand up to circle her freed wrist, careful to leave her a way out if she truly needed one, “there are _far_ worse ways to begin a morning.” He lifted his head, tilting it just so as he raised one brow; she narrowed her eyes thoughtfully in response, then tapped him on the hip. He pulled back slightly, and she unwound herself from him and the sheets both. Thumping her feet to the floor, she flicked him a teasing look over her shoulder.

“You know the rule,” she said as she sauntered across the room toward the en suite. “You can’t start timing until the water goes on, and we have to be quick.”

“They’re already _ruins_ , love. Getting there twenty minutes later won’t matter in the grand scheme of things, right?”

“Tell that to the fine citizens of Pompeii.” Her voice drifted from behind the almost-closed door. “Or to Howard Carter. Poor sap didn’t realize Tut had already been robbed at least twice by the time he got there. Alas, if only he’d been a little faster.”

“I think it’s a bit different, love.”

She poked her head around the edge of the doorway. “You _think_ ,” she said, voice dramatic. She launched her wadded-up t-shirt at him, and he caught a flash of pale skin as he pulled the fabric away from his face. “But you don’t _know_.”

***

They managed to make the 8:04 at the Canary Wharf station, and only because they’d thought far enough ahead to sort out their day packs the night before. She’d finished tying her boots on the elevator while he’d used the highly-polished wood as a mirror to sort his tumbled, shower-damp hair into some semblance of order. He’d given up around the third floor, remembering the elastic and knit cap he’d stuffed into the bottom of his bag just in case. Loki chased her down the escalator, carefully dodging sleepy weekend commuters and tourists and feeling lighter than he had in ages.

The carriage was more crowded than Loki had expected it to be. They didn’t bother with seats; it was a twenty minute ride to their connecting station, but neither minded. As usual, he held the safety strap while she held on to him, one arm loosely around his waist and the other tucked into the pocket of the jacket she’d layered over her hoodie against the cold January morning.

“I thought we might start with the ruins,” he told her, arm draped across her shoulders. His voice carried under the hum of the Underground carriage. “We can spend a few hours wandering, then come back to town for lunch and the rest of the adventure. That way, if we get distracted somewhere along the line, we won’t be stumbling around the countryside in the dark because we got to the ruins last.”

“An excellent plan,” she agreed as she pulled two protein bars from her pocket and offered him his pick. He took it, gesturing with his chin toward two seats that had been recently vacated. Folding himself into one of the cramped seats, Aeslin practically in his lap, he opened his breakfast. They talked and planned for the next several stops on the line, finally extricating themselves at the West Thameslink. The transfer went quickly, and soon they were on the train in more comfortable seats. They traveled as they generally did, with her at the window and him at the aisle, but once they were settled, she nudged him. He glanced over at her, and she held up an elastic and several hairpins with a faint smile.

“Would you be so kind?” she asked him, and he took them with an answering grin.

“Love to,” he replied. “Trade me seats.”

Loki wedged himself into the space between her and the window, and she slithered past him toward the edge of the seat.

“Don’t have enough pins for the full New York look, I’m afraid,” he observed with a chuckle as he slid his fingers along the drying, silken strands.

She laughed gently. “That’s fine. Just get it under control, if you could; I’d rather not have to fight it on the hike if the wind picks up.”

“Of course.” His fingers were already moving, weaving and twisting through well-remembered patterns; the motions were as soothing to him as they were to her. Loki couldn’t count the number of times he’d done it for her since that first neat mess in the Quinjet; most of his attempts had never seen the light of day. Instead, they’d been reserved for the quiet, restless hours when neither could sleep, when the motel or living room was lit by the glow from yet another random documentary as they’d talked and distracted each other long enough for the dawn to come.

He finished her braid only a few moments before they arrived; she pulled on her knit cap and slipped on her fingerless gloves as the train car slowed, and he picked up both their packs. They emerged into a clear, chilly morning. Loki handed Aeslin her bag, checking his map as she pulled it on. A nod to show she was ready, and they set off rapidly.

Aeslin fell quickly into her familiar, easy lope, and Loki matched her steps. They chatted as they made their way through town; they soon left the noise and bustle behind as many of the others on the train sought warmer pursuits.

“How’s the project coming along?” she asked him after a few moments. “I know you’ve been worried about it, but I haven’t seen it for a few days.”

“The Lovecraft?” he replied with a grin. “Coming along fine; I think I’m finally past all the major hiccups. I just need to fix the error on the title page. I’ve almost found the right font, but I may end up having to recreate the whole thing.” His voice was innocent. “Know of any artists who might be able to help? I pay well.”

“It’s not an error.” She nudged him as they walked, and he nudged her back, right to the edge of the footpath.

“You say ‘fiction’. I say ‘memoirs’. You can’t tell me he wasn’t writing from experience, whether his or someone else’s. He just changed a few names and locations, that’s all.”

“You’re telling me all that is real.”

“I’m _telling_ you,” Loki said as he trapped her hand in both of his to keep it warm, “that there are things in the Realms that not even _I’ve_ seen. It’s not beyond possibility. He just had to find ways to describe it using a language that lacked the necessary words. I mean, I’ve told you of Vanaheim’s rings, yes?”

“Yes.”

He tucked her hand back into his jacket pocket. “Ah, but I haven’t. I’ve only told you what you can understand. There are colors in them that your Realm doesn’t even have words for, because they don’t exist here. They don’t exist _any_ where but there. You lack a frame of reference, which is a great pity. I’d love to show them to you.”

“But would I be able to even see them?”

“Maybe,” he said, “maybe not, but I’d at least like the opportunity to try.” She smiled at that, and he squeezed her hand. Loki lifted his chin at the crumbling, fenced-in wall remnants in front of them. “Tell me about this.”

They walked a large circuit around the wall. She told him about trade routes, Roman occupations and walled cities, and Loki smiled. He loved listening to her talk about the things she loved; the few times he’d been able to sneak into her lecture halls without getting caught were some of the most interesting afternoons he’d had in London. After a long while, she turned the tables on him, asking if the Aesir knew of the Romans; Loki chuckled in response.

“The second-to-last entry in Odin’s encyclopedia of Earth,” he answered with a grin, “followed only by the Norse, which I think he still considers to be the pinnacle of Midgardian civilization. From what I remember, the entries were fairly accurate, if a little embellished.”

She laughed as they made their way toward the path leading to the next site; they drank and snacked as they walked in the slowly-warming day. More and more people appeared on the path, drawn out by the clear weather. They came to the second set of ruins within a few miles of wandering, an abandoned manor house near the edge of an estate.

After exploring the ruins for quite some time, Loki led her to a set of stairs beneath an arch, fairly sheltered from the breeze. He slipped off his coat, spreading it on the sunlit stone, then sat down, beckoning for her to join him. She stretched her legs, grateful for the chance to sit, then pulled them in, resting her forearms on her knees. He mimicked her pose, and they rested in the quiet for a moment, soaking in the peace around them.

Glancing around, he noticed that they seemed to be alone, and he looked over. Her face was lifted to the sky, and she was watching a small flock of birds eddy and swirl overhead, perfectly content. Loki waited a moment, then spoke.

“I’ve got your last flower,” he told her, and a slow grin spread across her face as she turned to him.

“I have a confession first, though,” Loki went on, casually reaching into his inner breast pocket. “This one isn’t all my doing; I needed quite a bit of help to get it just right.” The object was warm against his fingers. He shifted a little to face her as he placed the tiny box on her open palm; her fingers curled softly around it.  She looked at it curiously, then up at him. He nodded for her to go ahead, resting her hand lightly in both of his.

“ _Hedera helix_ ,” he said quietly as she opened the box. Her hand dropped against his as she stared at the ring inside. “Better known as common ivy. Don’t let that fool you, though. It’s for fidelity. For love.” He took a faint, shaky breath. “Wedded love.”

She raised her head, searching his face in silence. He held her gaze; everything fell away under the weight of those haunting grey-green eyes, and his hands tightened around hers. “Marry me,” was all he could manage. “Please.”

A tiny gasp, so quiet he barely heard it as she looked back at the ring.  The faint breeze blew a tendril of hair against her cheek, and he carefully reached up to smooth it away. He traced her jaw with gentle fingers.

“We haven’t talked about this,” he said after a long moment. “Perhaps we should have but…” he shook his head, thumb caressing the slender hand that still held the ring box. “I had all sorts of things I wanted to say. Whole speeches about how brilliant and strong and compassionate and flawed and beautiful you are, and now I can’t remember a damn word of any of them, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because all you need to know is that I love you. I love you more than I ever thought possible, and every day I love you more, and I cannot imagine a world without you in it. Not anymore. I cannot fathom a life where you’re not a part of it. I-”

“Yes.” Aeslin looked back up at him, and in that moment, Loki couldn’t decide which of them was more surprised. “Yes,” she repeated. “I will.”

He blinked, confused for a second as to why her tears were making it hard for him to see. “Really?” The word spilled out before he thought better of it, and she shook her head, eyes bright.

“Shut up,” she said and kissed him. They broke apart, laughter and tears on their lips, and then he tilted his head toward the ring.

“May I?” he asked, and she nodded, handing him the tiny box. Loki slipped the ring free, tucking its case back into his pocket, then slid the carved circlet onto the third finger of her left hand. They let out matching breaths, then grinned at each other like schoolchildren. She lifted her hand to study Sindri’s work.

Leaves and tendrils twined delicately around her finger, the metal smooth against her skin. Nestled among the leaves were tiny stones; they were a brilliant, iridescent green, and each one swirled like pale fire. The tiny gems shifted and danced in the sunlight as she watched, a faint smile on her face.

“What are they?”

“I’m not sure exactly what they’re called, but they come from deep within Muspelheim. Sindri calls them _leikki_. Flames. They’re some of his favorite stones to work with, but they’re hard to come by.”

She slid her finger across the silver metal that made up the leaves and stems. “So light,” she observed. “What is it?”

“Also without a name on this world, but it’s closest to mithril.” He laughed at her look. “Light, hard but easy to work, and it will never tarnish or dull. Dwarven metal at its finest; Tolkien was closest, as usual.” A slight shake of his head. “Now _there’s_ a man born on the wrong Realm.” Loki traced his finger along one slender vine. “It may look delicate, but it’s not. I’m sure it can take quite a bit of punishment; Thor made certain to tell Sindri what you do in your spare time.”

A sudden laugh. “Thor. _This_ was his errand. He was the one who asked Sindri to make it.”

Loki nodded. “In exchange for the Lovecraft, yes, and Thor himself got nine hours of Goblin’s Teeth plus the chance to make his very own edible kraken for his trouble.”

She reached out and took Loki’s hand in hers, and he decided he very much liked the feeling of the smooth, warm metal of her ring against his skin. “I doubt he saw it as trouble,” she said, a touch of rebuke in her tone; he grinned back.

“He was beside himself,” Loki admitted. “I couldn’t have come up with a better Solstice gift for him if I’d tried.” He leaned forward, planting a chaste kiss on her cheek. “That’s from him,” he explained. “I had to hold on to it for you until now. He and Frigga are both giddy at the very thought of adding you to the family. Such as it is.”

“That explains her visit.”

“Gods, and she had _such_ a hard time keeping it a secret. I worried more than once that she was just going to explode, but that’s a mother for you. Especially one that cares for you as much as she does.”

Aeslin gave a thoughtful sort of smile as she continued to stroke her finger along the lines of his palm.

“So,” she said after a quiet moment. “Did he make one for you, too?”

“Of course. I planned to wear mine, as well. If you’re going to be wearing yours, there’s no reason I shouldn’t be, as well.” He reached into his pocket once more and pulled out the small leather bag in which he’d kept his own ring. Upending the bag, he shook the band gently into her open hand.

His was black; knotwork that mimicked a dragon wrapped around the ring. Beneath the serpent lay a smooth band of deep, glittering green. She rolled it in her palm, allowing it to catch the sunlight and noting how the gem seemed to flicker of its own accord. He nodded at her curious look. “Also from the depths of Muspelheim. The metal, as well.” She nodded; then, picking it up between two fingers, she took his hand in hers once more.

“Well then, Loki only-sometimes-Friggason,” she said with one raised brow. “Will you marry me back?”

“It would be the greatest of privileges, Aeslin Kindlesdaughter.”

She smiled at the familiar nickname, then smoothly slipped the ring onto his finger. Aeslin held his hand for a moment longer, her thumb caressing his skin in a soft, gentle motion, and he grinned at the sight of the dark metal circlet. He’d never worn a ring before. He’d never even _wanted_ one before this, and already he couldn’t even think of taking it off again.

“I love you,” she told him suddenly, pulling him close and burying her face in his neck. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

They clung tightly to each other, and when she released him, he let her get less than an arm’s length away. “Well,” he said, arms around her waist. “Now that’s settled, shall we continue our adventure? There’s still a lot to see.”

“Yes,” she replied, brushing her lips against his. “I’d like that very much.”

***

_And just like that, they have evolved again._

_He has no memory of how long it takes them to find their way back to town, or what he has for lunch. He only knows the feeling of her hand in his, and the way she smiles at him when she thinks he’s not looking. He does remember the cathedral, though. One hundred and ninety-three steps to the church’s tower, and they both grin like fools the whole way up. The tour allows them a close view of the massive rose window; he drinks in the sight of her as she stands among the other guests for a moment, entranced by the intricate patterns of glass. It reminds him of the moment that she first saw Asgard, the moment that he first saw what lay within her, and he wonders if that was the moment he began to love her. He has never been sure exactly when it happened, when their paths began to intertwine like the ivy in her ring. Perhaps it was then. Perhaps it was later. Perhaps it was long ages before either of them was born, and only the Norns know for certain._

_They are still in the church when the sun goes down; she leads him through the cathedral, chasing the sunset along the walls and windows of naves and chapels. The dying light paints the ancient building in fire, and he stops and stares in wonder more than once. They slip out just as the cathedral closes to the public and the evening services begin; she is not of the faithful, and he has been a god for too long to feel welcome in another’s presence._

_The evening is cooling rapidly, and they huddle close together as they make a stop at the clock tower, then weave in and out of shops and attractions on their way back to the train station. The smiles remain through the ride home; she toys with his ring as the Tube rushes beneath London. A stop at their favorite restaurant, where he finds himself fascinated by the play of light across her hair and face, as though he has never seen it before. It is a change in perception, he finally realizes. She grows more beautiful, more incredible with each evolution. Advocate. Friend. Lover. Wife. He knows they have not spoken the words, have not had their union sealed by the All-Mother, but it almost does not matter. He is already hers in more than name, and he has been for quite some time._

_Hours later, they are tangled in a blanket on the couch, having never even made it to the bedroom. It has been sweet and gentle, almost shy in its way, and he cradles her against him as she drifts in and out of sleep._

_“We should tell Parker,” she says, and he laughs._

_“So soon?”_

_“I suppose,” comes the lazy reply as she snuggles further into the blanket. “It’s only fair, since_ your _family knew even before I did.”_

_“You’re going to tell him before you tell Tony?”_

_“You know me. I like to live dangerously.”_

_“It’s Saturday,” he observes. “He might already be at the mansion. Rhodes might not be, but if we give him a hint of why we want him there, he’ll be off like a shot.”_

_“True.” She lifts her head, face curious. “Do you think we should get official word to your brother? He’ll want to know he was truly successful in his mission.”_

_Loki thinks of the Observatory, and the Watcher. He barely needs to imagine two figures crowded onto the pedestal with the long-suffering Guardian, straining for a glimpse of a single set of ruins hidden amid the vast well of the cosmos. He smiles at the thought._

_“No need, love.” He brings her fingers to his lips. “I’m sure they already know.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _My scar is from a polar bear, my curse is from a witch,  
>  I've caught a giant squid in all the seven seas  
> I've picked up rocks from distant moons astronomers will discover soon  
> But I would give them all back just for you_
> 
> _I've gotten drunk and shot the breeze with kings of far off lands  
>  They showed me wealth as far as I could see  
> But their kingdoms seemed all shrivelly and they cried with jealousy  
> When I leaned in and told them about you_
> 
> _Anything for you  
>  All of this is true_
> 
> _But the best story that I could ever tell  
>  Is the one where I am growing old with you_
> 
> _(and i meant everything i said that night  
>  i will come back to life_
> 
> _but only for you_
> 
> _only for you)_
> 
>  
> 
> \----  
> a/n: links in the next chapter. :)
> 
> Feedback appreciated! We're finally here! <3 Thank you all for staying with me, and stick around! There's more to come. Love you all!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference materials!

[Here's](http://i86.photobucket.com/albums/k92/sweetmauleymalloy/C294a2_zps7rbtbfqq.jpg) the basis for her ring. The stones are similar to green fire opals, which look like [this](http://i86.photobucket.com/albums/k92/sweetmauleymalloy/a02396ff85bb40b7df2b1692063a0649_zps7b1o5efp.jpg).

[This](http://i86.photobucket.com/albums/k92/sweetmauleymalloy/3c8fca1ec25977db2c2c3d3af2fc0429_zpsqlzdhine.jpg) is the basis for his ring, with green instead of blue.

[Old Gorhambury House](http://i86.photobucket.com/albums/k92/sweetmauleymalloy/zipcar_st_albans_old_gorhambury_credit_flickr_user_adamnsinger_zpspixb4wnm.jpg): this is the site of the proposal.

 

Four songs heavily inspired this whole one-shot series. I'd love it if you gave them a listen.

[The Calendar](https://youtu.be/AEZy4VRjjNw%20), by Panic! at the Disco

[Searchlight](https://youtu.be/SXw54Q0-LZQ%20), by Phillip Phillips

[Anything For You](https://youtu.be/YvHeYawq0N8), by Ludo

Lastly, [Hands All Over](https://youtu.be/HQEZ-RiW7X0), by Maroon 5. It's basically a sort of love song to their whole journey, starting from the Warehouse and moving forward (if you squint your ears and sort of look to the left.).

 

Title for this one shot from the song by The American Authors. Lyrics from Anything For You by Ludo and The Calendar by P!atD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by the ever-delightful Xogs.
> 
> Thanks for coming along! There's more to come, but I need to get the sequel at least started before I start tossing it up. :) So glad you're here!


End file.
